The sisters were certainly amusing in their antics, much like Cart assumed he and Theo would be had they not been born over ten years apart. His sibling would be in line with Jude, spending hours exploring every exhibit and discussing each piece in great detail.
Cart yearned to step to Jude’s side and enjoy the museum with her. However, that was in no way possible. His confusion over the vase and his particular attraction to her muddled his normally highly functioning brain. It was as if his logical brain weren’t making the decisions but rather leaving it to another, more erratic, part of his person.
He should be furious with Jude, demand answers—he was furious with her. That was the main reason he hadn’t contacted her since the library. He could not trust his actions and feelings when she was close. It was as if all that he’d built his life around—honesty, integrity, and learning—didn’t matter when she smiled at him or when his finger brushed her arm. For the first time in years, he was faced with a situation—a person—he could not analyze. Not her or his reactions to her. He knew where the facts in the situation pointed, but his gut was screaming something different.
He hid in the shadows and watched the way her dress swirled about her feet as she hurriedly moved from one museum treasure to another in the room—as though if she didn’t make it to each, read the placards, and move on, they’d start disappearing before she’d had a chance to study them all.
The way she floated around the room with a smile on her face, calling important details over her shoulder and moving around other museum attendees with words of greeting, showed how much she appreciated everything. It was a rare sight, to see someone as enthralled in the displays as she.
He watched as the trio moved on to the next room of exhibits. He stepped from his hiding spot, craving to follow their retreating forms, but he could not. He hadn’t decided what to do about the vase or about her. Certainly his client, Lord Gunther, deserved to have the piece back, but if today proved anything, it was that he was far more confused about Jude’s fate in the entire debacle.
“Simon?” Cummings called. Cart turned with a smile, taking in his friend—a youngest son and, therefore, afforded a life in a career he had a great passion for. “Hope I did not keep you waiting overly long.”
“Of course not, I was enjoying the exhibit.”
The man’s brow rose as he looked over Cart’s shoulder at the women moving farther into the museum. “An exhibit, yes?”
Cart wasn’t prepared to talk about Jude or his complicated feelings for her with anyone—especially Cummings. “True, you know I revel in the time spent watching others experience the museum.”
“As do I,” Cummings agreed, nodding. “If you would come by more often than every fortnight or so, you’d see her far more frequently.”
Cart shot a sideways glance at Cummings and stepped before one of the small glass cases to study the hammer and weaved basket within. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Oh, long enough to know you weren’t studying the exhibits—but another, much more alive display.”
Cart narrowed his eyes and took in his friend’s smug smile as he slipped his hands into his pockets and rolled to the balls of his feet and back again, satisfied with himself.
“That is preposterous.”
“I disagree, Simon—errr, my lord—Cart.” He stepped beside the display and pretended to read the card as he continued. “It is only human nature. Obviously, something you’ve never been afflicted with before.”
“Do they come often?”
“You are certainly to the point where you’ve been outed.” Cummings made a show of raising his brows in shock and then rolling his eyes when Cart did not find the humor in his actions. “They do not come often, but the redhead—one of the redheads anyways—comes every few days. Sometimes accompanied by her twin or the younger girl—other times with a fair-haired, petite woman. Yet others, she comes alone. I’ve needed to shoo her out on several occasions when I’ve found her wandering the exhibits long after closing.”
There were many questions running through Cart’s mind. Did she leave with anything? Who escorted her when she was without her siblings? Did she put herself in jeopardy walking alone without a chaperone?
But that was not Cart’s reasoning for accepting Cummings’ invitation to assist in the restoration and assessment currently underway at the museum.
“I visited Lewis Stanford’s shop this morning and purchased the items you requested.” Cummings aimlessly walked to the next tiny glass box, holding a child’s toy of rusted metal with dirt still clinging to its surface. “I bought them in the name of the museum, so the man was more than happy to come to a fair price since his name would be listed on the exhibit when it comes to display.”
“I thank you for your kindness, my friend.” Cart followed him as he paced to yet another display, moving around a pair of aging matrons dressed in full London finery, their hat plumage hanging dangerously close to a glass case as they leaned over to inspect the piece. “I will gather my funds and purchase the pieces back when I can.”
“I will have them sent round to your home.”
“That is not necessary.” Cart shook his head at his friend’s generosity. “I will feel better about getting them when I have collected the coin necessary to buy them back.”
When he’d delivered the trunk of treasured pieces to Stanford’s and collected the money needed by his mother, Cart had never imagined seeing any of the antiquities again, but when Cummings had invited him for this time at the museum, he’d asked a great favor of the man. Thankfully, he’d agreed and purchased the entire trunk back from Stanford.
“I know you will make good on the debt, Cartwright.” Cummings patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve never failed me before. Not during our time at Eton nor after.”
“I appreciate our good standing.”
“Then I hope to see you around more,” Cummings paused before turning to Cart. “Mayhap you’d be interested in consulting with the museum in the future. It is a paid position, not much, but a small stipend.”
“I do not know…”
“Come now, it is more than enough to collect your chest.”
“I will have to think about it,” Cart answered. “I have much going on right now.”
“I hope you will.” Cummings seemed pleased with his answer—that Cart would truly consider the opportunity. He was correct, Cart needed the money and he desperately wanted to gain back his chest. “Shall we retire to the back?”
Cart made a hurried glance about the room, but Jude and her sisters were nowhere to be seen—likely deep within the museum by now. “Yes, I think that would be best. We can discuss the position at length.”
Chapter 17
Jude walked arm in arm with her sisters. The pair was being far more jovial after their departure from the museum and Payton’s insistence they stop for an ice on the walk home. Jude had agreed, knowing that the distraction was very welcome. Delaying their return to Craven House and the troubles that awaited her there was highly agreeable to her. It was unlikely that Lord Cartwright had sent any word to her on the vase in the short time she’d been away and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried. And fearful.
She’d become comfortable in the months following her theft from Lord Gunther’s townhouse. After the initial few weeks when no one had come to apprehend her or Sam, they’d begun moving in society once again as if it had never happened.
It was supposed to be only once—the payout being enough to settle some of the debts Marce faced at Craven House and provide the necessities to continue their sister’s good work. But they’d thus far been unsuccessful in ridding themselves of the piece, which made it necessary for Jude to accept far less than they’d originally anticipated for the vase.
Things were a mess and Jude blamed herself.
Sam continued, unaffected by their misdeeds. Unfortunately, Jude did not have that luxury. And now, she’d been forced to bring Lord Cartwright in
to their dubious dealings. Her family’s well-being should be of the utmost importance to her—that they continue to have a home, meals to eat, and their aging servants not be thrown to the streets. Instead, Jude couldn’t stop dwelling on how this would affect Cart if he recognized the vase as stolen. Or worse yet, have someone see the stolen vase in his home.
She wanted to push aside her concern for the man, barely more than a stranger to her while her family had been close at hand her entire life. It only made sense that they should be her priority, not some gentleman she’d dared to kiss—once—and had gotten little response from since. He likely thought her a woman of loose moral character to be so brazen as to kiss a man in a public park where anyone could see.
They rounded the corner to see Craven House, a carriage in the drive, and Jude’s stomach sank. Marce had returned, and she hadn’t been able to gather the money they needed. She’d failed once again.
“Who could possibly be coming to call at this time of day?” Sam asked. “It is far past the acceptable hour for visiting.”
The conveyance before her was certainly not as new and well-sprung as the carriages that collected Marce each year without fail. The exterior was in need of a good scrubbing and the horses at the front were past their prime.
Walking past the horses, Jude saw a small figure standing at their door, preparing to knock.
A spark of familiarity spiked within Jude.
She knew the petite figure with her long, dark plaits hanging down her back, a crisp white apron tied about her. Her dress hung only to her mid-calf, with impeccable white stockings beneath, disappearing into soft kid boots.
This was not as it should be. Jude feared something was most assuredly amiss.
“May I help you?” Jude called to the figure, who turned, a frightened, wide-eyed look upon her face—an expression matching the one she’d seen when she’d fled Cart’s house.
“Are you Miss Judith Pengarden?” she asked, her voice high with nervousness.
“I am.” Jude wanted to deny the question, turn around and walk back down their drive—and not have the confrontation that she knew was coming. “How may I be of service?”
The girl looked between Jude’s two sisters, turning a pleading look on Jude. “May we have a moment alone?”
The girl was not planning to expose Jude in her drive. At least, not yet. “Certainly,” Jude said, turning a smile to Sam, who stared back in question. “Please, take Payton inside, Sister. I will attend you shortly.”
Sam must have realized who the girl was and hurried inside with their youngest sibling in tow. As much as Jude would have appreciated Sam by her side, it was imperative that Payton not find out what they’d been up to—she’d go to Garrett with the findings, no questions asked. Jude couldn’t allow that to happen. She was too close to being rid of the vase and able to provide Marce with the much-needed money.
“Would you like to come in?” Jude asked. The girl shifted from foot to foot with unease. “We can talk in the drawing room.”
The girl looked between the open front door of Craven House and her waiting carriage. “No,” she stammered. “I will only be a minute. May we speak here?”
Jude had no idea what intentions the girl had with coming here, yet she obviously knew who Jude was. “Of course.” Though she agreed to speak with her, Jude most assuredly was not going to start the conversation.
“What are your intentions with my brother?”
Jude took a small step back, stunned. She’d expected accusations about breaking into the girl’s home, followed by her intentions to alert the magistrate, but not this.
“I do not believe we have officially met,” Jude said hesitantly. If she were going to discuss her personal affairs, then it was only proper they had a formal introduction. “You must be Lady Theodora.” When the girl nodded, she continued. “As you know, I am Miss Judith Pengarden.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you…again.”
Jude could not ignore the reference to their only brief encounter. The girl assessed her with a shrewd stare, much like Cart’s.
“Now that we have officially met, I will ask again,” Theodora said in measure words. “What are your intentions with Lord Cartwright, my brother?”
This was usually done the other way around, with a father or eldest male relative inquiring of a gentleman his intentions toward a woman—but this situation was no less hostile.
“I know who you are, what you have done, but I do not know why.” Theodora paused, allowing Jude to speak.
“I do apologize for frightening you that night.” She hoped an apology would weaken the severe set of the girl’s grim expression. “It was not my intention—“
“That night does not concern me. Well, not specifically that night,” she corrected. “I have noticed my brother has a certain affection for you. He’s begun to daydream, idly spending hours looking into thin air, and neglecting his normal passions. It is highly disconcerting to me.”
“I can see how that would be troubling,” Jude agreed, at a loss for what to say next.
“Very troubling, indeed,” Theodora nodded. “Which, by the way, I do not see as a horrible thing. My brother… Well, he has spent many years attending to my mother and me, while pushing his true desires and interests to the side. Now, he seems taken with you.” She paused once more, scanning Jude from head to toe. “And while you are a stunning creature of great elegance and charm—much like the great poets write sonnet after sonnet about—I need to know your intentions with him. I will not see him hurt and I fear I will not always be close to care for him.”
Lady Theodora spoke like a woman three times her age; maturity, intellect, and poise dripped from her every word. She could sit in any salon in London and interact with the social decorum expected of her. It was an impressive feat that Jude struggled with herself.
The hard truth was that Jude couldn’t answer the girl’s question. From her heart, she could most assuredly tell the young lady she had nothing but honorable intentions where Cart was concerned. However, in her mind, Jude knew she was taking advantage of him in many ways.
“We have many similar interests,” Jude confessed, thinking of her day at the museum—longing for Cart to be there instead of her sisters. They would have enjoyed walking between the exhibits, pausing to discuss any painting, sculpture, or artifact that garnered their notice. Cart would have had unlimited tidbits of knowledge to share with her, as he did each time they met. And maybe, she might know something of note that he didn’t. “I have enjoyed spending time with him.”
“That is all?” Theodora questioned, placing her hands on her hips, daring Jude to lie. “Only an acquaintance you’ve delighted in spending time with?”
Jude eyed the girl, keeping her mouth shut. This was Cart’s little sister. If anyone deserved answers, it was she. But Jude couldn’t bring herself to share with Cart her true feelings, how could she open up to a girl she’d only just met?
“Just so,” Jude said curtly. “And, if it pleases, I hope to continue an acquaintance with him.” Her words softened as she went on. She had nothing against this girl—and would certainly like her if they continued their association. “Has your interest in me and Cart—Lord Cartwright—been quenched?”
Jude could tell by the girl’s tilted head as she continued to assess Jude that her questions hadn’t been fully answered, but finally, Theodora shrugged. “Do call me Theo—everyone does, to my mother’s horror. But note that I will soon be departing for school, away from London, and I will be unable to keep an eye on my brother. Do not hurt him. He does not know I have come—and it would behoove you to keep this little visit between us.” She lifted her hand, holding out an envelope to Jude—one she hadn’t noticed the girl held. “I believe this is for you. A man delivered it while I prepared to knock earlier.”
The girl swirled around, giving Jude a swift dismissal as she ascended into her carriage. Her driver closed the door behind her and took his seat, quickly sending the co
nveyance into movement.
Leaving Jude to stare at the missive in her hand—clearly marked, Notice: Delinquency.
While Jude needed to think over Theo’s abrupt visit and thinly veiled threat upon her departure, there were more important things at hand—namely, the correspondence she now held. The first she’d been able to properly inspect that Mr. Curtis or her sister had not grabbed immediately and disappeared with.
Jude’s hands shook a bit, though she didn’t know if it was because of the harrowing encounter with Theo or the letter she held.
Chapter 18
The door squeaked open and Cart listened without removing his gaze from the paper before him as light feet entered the room. “Simon?”
“What?” Cart glanced up from the letter he’d been writing, glaring at Theo, who stood at the open door of his study, wringing her hands nervously. He worked hard to remove the frown he knew covered his face and likely frightened his dear sister. He was unused to such drastic changes in his mood. Only days ago, he thought himself in love, but now he knew he was the biggest fool in all of England—and possibly abroad. “My apologies, Theo. Please, come in.”
She hurried to the chair before his desk, as if fearing if she dallied he would tell her to leave. For once, there was no book tucked under her arm, no ancient tomes pressed to her nose, no tutor following behind her asking questions of literature, history, or science.
Something was severely wrong, for with all this, she would not make eye contact with him, deeming the scuffed floor beneath her feet more worthy of her attention.
“Where have you been?” he inquired, relaxing his stern tone from a moment before. “When I returned home earlier, it was said you were out ‘on an errand’.”
“I was,” Theo confirmed, stumbling over the words. “But I returned quickly.”
He’d wondered what errand a twelve-year-old girl could possibly undertake, but it was likely their mother had dragged her along to pay another social visit to some matron of good standing.
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